The Regret of the Alpha
Chapter 2
– Vengeance’s Lash
“Get up.”
A boot slammed into Melodie’s ribs.
She coughed, curling tighter. “Why?”
“Because the pack wants blood.”
Two guards dragged her out of the cell and into daylight. The courtyard stank of smoke and sweat. A post waited in the center—splintered, stained.
“Name?” a soldier barked.
“Melodie,” she said through cracked lips. “Scullery maid. Nothing more.”
“Felix’s eyes say otherwise.”
They tied her wrists to the post. A woman in the crowd shouted, “She watched while my village burned!”
“I didn’t—”
The first lash cut her off.
---
Up on the marble steps, Alexander stood motionless.
“She screams like her father’s victims did,” Marcus muttered beside him.
Alexander didn’t answer.
His eyes locked on her face—bloodied, bruised, familiar in a way that unsettled him.
“She’s tougher than the others,” Marcus noted. “Still hasn’t begged.”
“She won’t,” Alexander said quietly.
---
Lash after lash.
Melodie clenched her jaw. Pain blurred into rhythm. She counted the cracks in the wood. Thought of constellations she once described to a blind boy.
“I brought you food,” she whispered into the woodgrain. “I played so you could sleep.”
Another crack.
“You said you’d remember.”
---
That night, she lay trembling on the cell floor.
Her back burned. Her lips bled.
Still, she hummed the lullaby.
A guard passing by paused. “You’re insane.”
She smiled faintly. “Maybe.”
---
Meanwhile, Alexander paced his chambers.
He pulled out the flute.
Held it.
Listened.
A memory tugged—cold chains, warm bread, a voice in the dark.
“I can’t remember her face,” he murmured.
“Then forget her,” Marcus said behind him. “You have a kingdom to rebuild.”
Alexander looked down at the flute again.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
---
In the dungeon, Melodie pressed her palm to the floor.
“I won’t feed your hatred, Alexander,” she whispered.
“You’re not a monster. I know you’re not.”
---
Up above, he stared at the moon through glass.
Her eyes haunted him. Her silence. Her strength.
“Who are you?” he asked the stars.
The flute stayed in his palm all night.
---
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